and egress through the thickness of the
walls. A certain number of men were also sent out as spies to discover,
if possible, the whereabouts of the Matabele impi.

That there was some impi they were almost sure, for a woman who had
followed them reported that the injured captain, Maduna, and his
companion had been met at a distance of about three miles from Bambatse
by a small party of Matabele, who were hiding in some bushes, and that
these men had made litters for them, and carried them away; whither she
did not know, for she had not dared to pursue them further.

That night Benita passed in the guesthouse, which was only a hut rather
larger than the others, while the two men slept in the waggon just
outside. She was so tired that for a long while she could not rest. Her
mind kept flying back to all the events of the day: the strange words
of that mystic old Molimo, concerning herself; the arrival of the brutal
messengers and the indaba that followed; then the sudden and awful
destruction of their spokesman at the hand of Jacob Meyer. The scene
would not leave her eyes, she saw it again and yet again: the quick
transformation of Meyer's indifferent face when the soldier began to
insult and threaten her, the lightning-like movement of his hand, the
flash, the report, the change from life to death, and the slayer's cruel
laugh. He could be very terrible, Jacob Meyer, when his passions were
roused!

And what had roused them then? She could not doubt that it was
herself--not mere chivalry towards a woman. Even if he were capable of
chivalry, merely for that he would never have taken such risk of future
trouble and revenge. No; it was something deeper. He had never said
anything or done anything, yet long ago instinct or insight had caused
Benita to suspect the workings of his mind, and now she was sure of
them. The thought was terrible--worse than all her other dangers put
together. True, she had her father to rely on, but he had been somewhat
ailing of late; age and these arduous journeys and anxieties had told
upon him. Supposing that anything were to happen to him--if he died, for
instance, how dreadful her position might become, left alone far from
the reach of help, with savages--and Jacob Meyer.

Oh! if it had not been for that dreadful shipwreck, how different might
be her lot to-day! Well, it was the thought of the shipwreck and of him
whom she had lost therein, which had driven her on to this adventure,
that